


Dead Poet's Honor

by cherophilia



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25281202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherophilia/pseuds/cherophilia
Summary: With Neil Perry unconscious in the hospital, Todd Anderson follows the investigation as he unravels the bitter truth and repulsive act of Welton Academy.
Relationships: Charlie Dalton/Knox Overstreet, Richard Cameron/Charlie Dalton, Todd Anderson/Neil Perry
Kudos: 39





	1. Welcome to Hell-ton

Today at 14th of September 1959, Todd will be transferring to a new life in Welton Academy. It is an all boys school, known for discipline and intellectual learning. It is a tradition for most parents to enroll their younger sons on the same school their older brother went in. Pulling the sibling card will guarantee you an elevated probability of success from a pool of hundred enrollees. Todd had snuck it into the list, of course, as expected.

“Hello, Todd,” welcomed Mr. Nolan, the headmaster. “Welcome to Welton Academy. Your brother was one of our finest here.”

His brother, Jeffrey Anderson, was a well-known football player, a class-A student, and every teacher’s pet. _They must like him for his charm_ , Todd thought to himself.

Todd never competed with that. He never desired attention, or even small talks. Throughout his grade school, he maintained straight-A's on every subject as possible. Plus a low profile. He didn’t think of friends as necessary to survive the school life.

He had the same opinion till junior high. His classmates used to taunt him for his ability to stay calm and mute under crisis. For example, during afternoon class, when the school’s back building was on fire. Followed by the fire alarm blaring on every corridors, pack of students were panicking and shuffling out of classrooms for dear life. Todd, on the other hand, managed to stay on his seat while reading his favorite book, uninterrupted. Luckily (at least for him), the emergency drain pipes aren’t working. He was the guy who had no sense of panic. They called him “Todd-pole” or a frog who croaks on sign language.

“Looks like a stiff! Ha ha,” sniggered the ginger boy, heedless on blocking the doorway. Todd peered behind him to confirm if he landed on the right dorm room. The ginger-head jerked on Todd’s presence and walked away. “Oops.”

A guy with a friendly face and thick eyebrows already made it into the room before him. “You must be my roommate.”

Todd nodded. “Guess so.”

“I’m Neil. Neil Perry,” Neil reached out a handshake. “Listen. Don’t mind Cameron. He’s born with a foot in his mouth. You know what I mean?”

Richard Cameron. Known for his last name, is an overly obedient student in Welton. The compos mentis in his circle of friends, who idolizes Mr. Nolan’s traditionalist views.

Todd dragged his trunk into his bedside and started unpacking. Arranging his desk set and piling his clothes neatly on the bed. He thought about the months he’s going to endure in his new school. The criticisms and headaches he’s about to take in. He hanged his uniforms in the drawer, careful not to ruffle his mother’s job of ironing it. Silently doing his work, he was also sorting out the given class schedule in his mind. _Chemistry, Trigonometry, Lunch, Latin, English, Dismissal. Chemistry, Trigonometry, Lunch, Latin, English, Dismissal. Chemistry, Tri-_

“Well, hello,” spoke a voice on the doorway. “Rumor has it. You did summer school.”

“Charlie,” replied Neil. “Yes. Chemistry. Good to see you, pal.”

Neil unrolled his sleeves up to his palms before shaking hands with his old friend. “Almost done.”

Charlie gathered more people into the room; discussing stories about their summer life, their part-time jobs, inventions, and Mr. Nolan.

“I witnessed that stunt your father pulled today, Neil.”

“That old man’s scary.”

“It’s just a bunch of people trying to impress Nolan.”

Todd faced his back on them, hiding his frown. These gentlemen aren’t what he expected. Far different from the graduated students wearing smug faces; those students who took pride on their trophies and medals and looked down on people they bump into. His brother, Jeffrey, for example. The brothers used to leave no space in between when it comes to secrets. Their childhood consists of laughter and joy and openness to the beauty of daylight. Jeffrey was the kind of brother who sees the good in everyone and everything. He was one who dares not to look at his chafed hands unless his little brother is alright. Selfless and wholesome, so to think. Not until he attended Welton. Todd wondered about the implementations done by the school on their students. On why they finished school with unappealing manners.

“Hello, darling.”

Todd startled, feeling a pat with a slight force on his back.

“Charlie Dalton,” Charlie introduced himself, reaching out a cigarette.

Todd took in his face for a moment and down to the cigarette he’s holding. “Uh, I don’t smoke.”

“Sure,” Charlie replied, lighting one between his lips. “Take it easy.”

His eyes twitched on rigid aura of the scene before taking Charlie’s offer. “Alright.”

Charlie Dalton. Charlie is a son of a rich banker. A carefree rebel who often gets himself into trouble and those everyone around him.

“My name is Stephen Meeks.”

Stephen Meeks. A geeky-looking ginger-head boy, with huge glasses and diverse freckles. Not to confuse with Cameron who is also a ginger-head.

“I’m Knox Overstreet.”

Knox Overstreet. Knox is a hopeless romantic guy with an average build, and a pitiful face.

“I’m Pitts.”

Gerard Pitts. Known by his surname, Pitts is noticeable with a towering height, thick eyebrows and a buzz cut.

Now that Todd is finally acquainted with all five of them, they started teaching him about their own version of school rules, how to sneak foods in class or who to avoid in the corridors. Although Todd is not very good at memorizing rules and regulations, he kept a few in mind.

Neil climbed on a stall and stood the most bossy way. “Gentlemen, what are the four pillars?”

“Travesty, Horror, Decadence, Excrement,” chorused the boys, except Todd.

 _Tradition, Honour, Discipline, Excellence._ Four things he learned during the 7 o’clock assembly. In addition to the introduction of the school’s lengthy history and the pathetic recognition of their _best_ students. Not that Todd is bitter. Everyone has their own definition of what’s best.

The two hours assembly went in a blur. The prayers, singing, promotion of the athlete team, new teacher named Mr. Keating, closing ceremony, and acquaintance between teachers and parents.

“Alright, ladies. Study group,” said Charlie.

“Oh, right! Meeks aced Latin,” recalled Neil. “We need a tutor.”

“That’ll do.” agreed Meeks.

Neil leaned his back on the windowsill, taking a drag from Charlie’s smoke. “Besides, Cameron asked me too. Anyone mind including him?”

“Oh, come on. What’s his specialty, bootlicking?” exclaimed Charlie.

“He’s your roommate.”

“Uh, not my fault,” Charlie hoisted up, earning a laugh from his friends.

Todd never experienced having a circle of friends before. His only friend was his elder brother; who was long dead beyond his facade. He admits he’s awkward around people's company, unless they share a common thing with him: no talks.

“Todd, you’re welcome to join us,” Neil invited.

“Yeah, pal. You might have wits in that shell,” agreed Meeks.

Todd put a decisive expression and nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

Neil and his squad straightened up and piled out of the room properly. Charlie Dalton came last. He took a step back and turned to Todd. “Hey, newbie.”

Todd raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”

Charlie lingered for a moment, curving a forceful yet pernicious smile. “Welcome to Hell-ton.”


	2. Where's Cameron?

Todd’s first class came, which is Chemistry. Professor Valorie isn't one for candy conversations, a warm welcome, asking about his students' summer life and whatnot. Instead, by simply proceeding down the line of his job. Todd didn’t like the idea. He thought it’s much more friendlier when you engage with your students like a human being. 

The lessons are doing fine on the first day. He wishes that goes for the rest of the quarters. But he knows that wouldn’t happen. Topics will eventually get harder and harder, and time would feel slower. Later on, Trigonometry came next. Dr. Hager was very grumpy and terrifying. He has a habit of getting upset whenever a chalk dust was powdered on his precious floor. First second he stood in front of the class, he gave a five minute test about the Trigonometric functions. Todd wasn’t pleased.

Soon as the lunch arrived, Todd walked back to the dorm to sort his books for his upcoming afternoon class.

“Neil, have you seen Cameron?” asked Charlie.

“Nope,” replied Neil. “Since when did you care about him?”

“Since I lent him my Chemistry book and never returned since.”

“You can always buy one, Charlie,” Neil said in a singsong voice.

“Seriously though,” Charlie propped his feet on a chair. “He wasn’t in Latin class earlier. You know that git never skips.”

“Didn’t Mr. Nolan call him earlier?” joined Pitts.

“What for?”

“I don’t know. But Cameron looked real bummed.”

Charlie furrowed his brows, with a gape forming on his mouth.

“What?” asked Pitts.

Before Charlie could reply, the bell rang, signifying lunch break. Footsteps of students began descending down the corridors towards the dining hall.

“Garlic chickens are waiting. Come on, Todd.” Neil gestured Todd to come with him, followed by the rest of the boys, disappearing in the crowd.

The dining hall was located on the east wing. The inside looked grand, with chandeliers and engraved mahogany tables clothed in white satin. On the opposite wall was an elevated dining table for the school staff. It looks very grand, indeed.

All students gathered into the hall in orderly fashion under protocol. Freshmen boys are seated on the far right of the hall. Grade levels ascending towards far left, where senior students are seated.

On the table sat the wafting aroma of plum stew, pieces of fried chickens, vegetables soup, a bowl of thick garlic tomato sauce, creamy mashed potatoes, three pitchers of apple juice and some deserts that makes your mouth water. Todd felt his stomach grumble and restrained himself from snatching food before the prayer.

“Can we just eat now?” whispered Todd.

Neil let out a small chuckle. “Not so fast, dear.”

Students impatiently stood in the hall for five minutes more before the headmaster finally arrived. Mr. Nolan was wearing a velvet top tucked into his belted brown trousers. It was highly unusual for the headmaster to wear something colored other than white. The professors nodded on his arrival and everyone arose for the prayer.

Charlie nudged Todd, directing his eyes over the staff table. “What’s the occasion?”

“Sshh.”

The dining hall echoed with clattering utensils soon as the prayer ended. There were two empty seats in front of Knox and Pitts. Obviously, one belongs to Cameron, and the other one is unknown. But everybody is too hungry to even notice.

“So, how was your first day, Todd?” asked Neil. Slapping two chicken drumsticks and boiled potatoes on Todd’s plate.

“Good.”

“Good?” said a voice behind him. “Don’t lie, Todd. Hager gave us his first day treat.”

Meeks found a seat in front of Pitts, filling one of two empty chairs.

“Is it working yet?” Pitts asked Meeks.

Pitts and Meeks are collaborating with their radio invention that can access every radio channels in the world. Meeks founded the idea first. Drafting his imagination into blank pages of his school books. Yet, he struggled how to execute the idea into a real thing. Until he found Pitts; who has a skill on electronics, considering his childhood consists of less play and more extensive coaching from his father. He quite have the same thinking as Meeks. And with connected minds, they became close friends.

“Not yet,” replied Meeks. “We need to go up.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, to receive radio frequencies, we need places that has it,” said Meeks. “Don’t we?”

“You guys on that thing again?” asked Neil, taking a sip of apple juice.

Meeks grabbed a gravy-dipped chicken wing. “Hmm-hmm.”

“Wshherwoofam.”

“What?” tittered Neil.

“Didn’t notice you’re here, Charlie,” smiled Knox. Passing a pitcher of water over Charlie.

Todd finished a joyful bowl of plum soup and began wolfing down some chocolate pie. He has been longing for this kind of satisfaction since he left the house. His mother would cook something as good as this every day. That is one thing he missed about home.

“Guys,” Charlie started, speaking clear this time. “Cameron. Where’s Cameron?”

Knox eyed him in disbelief. “Oh, come on. Can't we just celebrate the fact that he’s not here?” 

“He’s just being a responsible roommate, Knox.” Meeks threw in.

Afternoon class came. Todd was seated on the back row corner. He found out, Neil, Pitts, and Knox shares the same schedule as him. This eased his nerves up a bit. Cameron entered the room two minutes before the Latin professor came. He had no choice but to sit on the only vacant seat facing the teacher’s front table.

Professor George McAllister, is a plump guy in his 50s. He has streaks of silver hair and a calm face. He does his job very well. Starting by greeting his students and telling a bit of his life. Although Latin wasn’t Todd’s area of expertise, he genuinely understood the lessons tackled about history of the Latin language, and why was it the way it is.

English came next. The last subject. The boys settled down and waited, grateful for some moment to relax and shed some of the pressure from the previous class. Todd found a seat front row in the corner. Neil Perry was there too, seated at the center of the room. The rest of his friends were also present. Good thing for Todd. He won’t feel lonely during the class.

Four boys were clumped behind Todd, talking about chess and Mr. Keating.

“Do you think he’ll be like Dr. Hager? Grumpy and old.”

“Weren’t you in the assembly earlier?”

“No.”

“That explains it. I think he’s nothing like that old man.”

 _Todd, eavesdropping is very bad_ , echoed his father's voice from memory. Of course, five year old Todd believed him. In his younger years, he was caught doing it in the other room. His father, and some female visitor were talking about meeting up at her local bar. Said something about “eat your pussy” and “so screwed tonight.” Little Todd thought about the bar and what kind of cat delicacies were served in the place. For him, eating cats are disgusting.

Todd’s seatmate, a spectacled boy with jet black hair, started sneezing persistently.

“You are very blessed, Spaz!”

Spaz is a sickly boy who takes at least five different medicines a day. He is usually seen with watery eyes, red nose and a towel on hand. Good thing about the towel part.

To everyone's surprise, the door suddenly flung open and the room fell silent. 

_"The Diamond is a ship, my lads  
For the Davis Strait we're bound  
The quay it is all garnished  
With bonnie lasses 'round_

Mr. Keating, dallied into the room with a book and a clipboard, sings as the boys gaped at him in confusion. 

_"Captain Keating gives the order  
To sail the ocean wide  
Where the sun it never sets, my lads  
Nor darkness dims the sky_

Todd met Neil’s eyes, both sharing the same confusion. Spaz, on the other hand, was constantly muffling his sneezes. Every students in the classroom threw each other looks, trying to understand what kind of situation they just got into. Mr. Keating doesn’t mind, as he continues strolling up and down the aisles.

_"For it's cheer up my lads  
Let your hearts never fail  
For the bonnie ship the Diamond  
Goes a-hunting for the whale_

_Along the quay at Peterhead  
The lasses stand aroon  
Wi' their shawls all pulled around them  
And the saut tears runnin' doon_

Todd recognized the song somewhere at the back of his mind. He ran a finger through his blond hair, raking his brain for answers.

_"Don't you weep, my bonnie wee lass  
Though you be left behind  
For the rose will grow on Greenland's ice  
Before we change our mind_

_For it's cheer up my lads  
Let your hearts never fail  
For the bonnie ship the Diamond  
Goes a-hunting for the whale_

Charlie Dalton was amused and started drumming his desk. The rest followed by clapping their hands to the beat. Cameron sat still with a disagreeing face. "What the hell?"

“Come on, lads!” called Mr. Keating. Taking the left turn to the second door. “Follow me!”

Todd scanned the crowd for agreement. Some were laughing, thinking this was a joke. And some were still confused. Charlie stood first, walking on Mr. Keating’s direction and gestured everybody to do the same. Everyone obliged.

“I can’t believe this,” muttered Cameron.

The class shuffled outside to the corridor. Mr. Keating led the way towards the main entrance while chanting the song with some of his students who are familiar with it.

_“…We'll make the cradles for to rock  
And the blankets for to tear  
And every lass in Peterhead sing  
"Hushabye, my dear"_

_For it's cheer up my lads  
Let your hearts never fail  
For the bonnie ship the Diamond  
Goes a-hunting for the whale”_

Mr. Keating stopped in the middle of everyone marching. They arrived in front of the memorabilia corner. He was smiling, waiting till the class gathered around.

The class still have no idea what they just got into. But they definitely enjoyed it.

“’O’ Captain! My Captain!’” dramatically began Mr. Keating. “Who knows where that comes from?”

Todd turned his head down, avoiding the teacher’s piercing eye contact. He was afraid to be called or even speak in class. A rat inside him he decided not to let go.

“Anyone?” Mr. Keating scanned the crowd. “No?”

The students fell silent.

“It was written, my young scholars, by a poet named Walt Whitman about Abraham Lincoln,” Mr. Keating answered to himself.

Mr. Keating seemed odd, but cool. The class was forbidden having classes outside, other than P.E. during Fridays. But this is no worry for everyone. This is a new teacher spicing up his first day of class.

“Anyone know the song we chant earlier?”

Charlie Dalton raised his hand.

“Yes? Mister” – Mr. Keating peered for the boy behind the crowd – “Dalton, sir,” he replied. “It’s a sea shanty entitled ‘The Bonnie Ship The Diamond’ and it became a hit the previous decade. Mostly taught in kindergarten.”

“Yes, that’s right. Thank you, Mr. Dalton.”

Now Todd remembered where it came from. This used to be the song he hated in his childhood. It was sang almost everywhere in his nursery school. Until it got annoying and distorted to his ears. He thought the song was promoting an idea of being wild and violent, inappropriate for the children to even sing. Especially, the ‘hunting for the whale’ part. He realized, his perspective changed now that he heard it again after ten years. The song wasn’t about any of those. It’s about being a free soul with a daring heart. He wanted to be like that.

“Now in this class, you can either call me ‘Mr. Keating’ or if you’re slightly more daring, ‘O’ Captain. My Captain’”

The crowd sniggered.

“So that I become the source of as few rumors as possible, let me tell you that,” Mr. Keating leaned in. “Yes, I, too attended Hell-ton.”

He resumed pacing, speaking as he moved. “And no, at that time, I did not possess this charismatic personality you see before you. I was the equivalent of a 98 pound weakling.

“I would go to the beach, and people would kick copies of Byron in my face. However, you should choose to emulate my manner, it can only help your grade. Open your textbooks from the back, gentlemen.”

Using the attendance sheet on his clipboard, he randomly picked a name from a list of 16 students. “Mr. Pitts?” he said. “A rather unfortunate name. Mr. Pitts, open your text to page 542 and read it for us the first stanza of the poem.”

Pitts leafed through his book. “’To the Virgins, To Make Much of Time?’” he asked.

“That’s the one,” Mr. Keating replied, as the boys burst out chuckling.

“Yes, sir,” Pitts cleared his throat.

_“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,  
Old time is still a flying:  
And this same flower that smiles today,  
Tomorrow will be dying.”_

He stopped. “Thank you, Mr. Pitts,” said Mr. Keating. “’Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,’ the Latin term for that sentiment is Carpe Diem, which means-“

“Seize the day,” Meeks, the Latin scholar, said.

“Very good, Mr…?”

“Meeks.”

“Seize the day,” Mr. Keating repeated. “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may. Why does the poet write these lines?”

“Because he’s in a hurry?” Charlie called out, earning a snicker from his classmates.

“Nice try, Mr. Dalton,” smiled Mr. Keating. “It’s because we’re food for worms, lads!”

“Because we’re only going to experience a limited number of springs, summers, winters, and falls. One day, hard as it is to believe, each and every one of us is going to stop breathing, turn cold, and die!,” he paused, dramatically. “Scoot closer, lads,” he urged the students. “Peruse the faces from the past. Don’t be timid; go look at them.”

The boys inched closer to the glass wall, dividing them from the lines of photograph. They looked at the faces of young men, staring out at them from the past.

“Not so different from you, are they? Hope in their eyes, just like you. Full of hormones, just like you. They believe themselves destined for wonderful things, just like many of you. Well, where are those smiles now, boys? What of the hope?”

The class stared at the photos, their faces sober and reflective. Mr. Keating walked swiftly behind them, pointing from photo to photo. “Did most of them not wait until it was too late before making their lives into even one iota of what they were capable?

“In chasing the almighty deity of success, did they not squander their boyhood dreams? Most of these gentlemen, are now fertilizing daffodils. However, if you lean in closer, you can hear them whisper their legacy to you. Go ahead,” he urged. “Come on. Lean in. You hear that?”

The boys were quiet, some of them hesitant to lean towards the photographs. “Carpe Diem,” Mr. Keating whispered, enough for all the boys to hear. “Seize the day, boys. Make your lives extraordinary.”

Todd, Neil, Charlie, Knox, Cameron, Meeks, Pitts, and the other boys all stared into the pictures on the walls. Lost in their own mind that they were rudely interrupted by the bell. 

The night came and the senior students are gathered in their common room. It was crowded with boys playing chess and darts. On the other side near the fireplace, sat Meeks and Pitts with their radio. The opposite table was Neil and the rest of the squad. They took turns on using the only pen they brought, doing their homeworks.

Todd sat alone in the corner with a lampshade, doing the same thing. He recalled the early events, on how a good class he enjoyed the most ended up so quickly. His favorite, so far, was the English class. It felt too genuine, the way Mr. Keating explain things. From the grand entrance of chanting, to honoring the dead people in the memorabilia. _Carpe Diem_ , Todd scribbled on his notebook.

Soon as Todd finished his homework, Neil scooted beside him and flipped an old, dusty book of photos. A yearbook. 

“Mr. Keating?” scoffed Todd.

Neil traced his fingers on the caption. “Captain of the soccer team, editor of the school annual,” Neil paused. “Thigh man? Man most likely to do anything, and the Dead Poets Society.”

“What’s a thigh man?”

“What’s the ‘Dead Poets Society?”

“No idea.” Todd grinned.

Neil skimmed the whole page, exposing a day old bruise right on his wrist. 

“What happened to that?” Todd pointed out.

There was a sudden alarm on Neil's expression as he tried to hide it with his oversized sweater. He flapped his sleeves, imitating an otter and smiled. “Listen, Todd. I’m very invested in this. I’m going to ask Mr. Keating tomorrow.”

“’Dead Poets Society’ sounds promising,” Todd added. “Have you told your friends yet?”

“ _Our_ friends, Todd,” Neil reclaimed. “You’re not an outcast. And no, I haven’t told them yet.”

Neil gave him a reassuring rub on the back. “Hey, I should finish my Latin homework first. See you later.”

Todd with _friends_? He must be dreaming. No one wanted to be friends with him. Not even touch him. Or be with him. Most people approach him only when they need something. _Was Neil like them too?_ He pondered. Why would he be Neil’s first choice to tell about the yearbook? Todd wasn’t easy to convince. This had been a problem in the past, when he started trusting someone a bit too much; only to receive the gift of betrayal.

But there’s one thing Todd fret about. Neil haven’t answered his question about the bruises. Maybe a minor accident? Did he fall and got chafed? Todd was too tired to think about it and decided to drop it off and went to bed.

It was about 3 in the morning when Todd felt a breeze issuing from the window. It was sonorous and chilly. He grunted and shifted on his bed, afraid to lose his sleep.

The morning came and sounds of footsteps are heard thumping outside the dorm room. Todd rubbed his eyes, adjusting his vision in the dimly lit room. He checked if Neil had already gotten up; the bed is empty.

Todd groomed himself, put on clean clothes before stepping outside. The corridors are quiet. _Has anyone gotten up, yet?_ Feeling a grumble in his stomach, he headed downstairs for the dining hall when he heard someone call his name.

“Todd! Wait up!”

Neil Perry. Todd isn't one for conversations during mornings. He didn't dare to look back and continued walking.

Neil tramped faster, struggling to keep up with Todd’s distance.

“Todd,” Neil placed his hand on his shoulder, panting. “I meant to wake you up earlier. But you look like you’re having a good dream.”

Good dream? Todd barely remembered his dream.

“Done with homework yet?” Neil asked.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Neil replied. “I haven’t asked Mr. Keating yet. Say we do it this lunch?”

No. “Okay.”

“Trigonometry’s your last morning subject, right?”

Stop talking. “Yes.”

Neil didn’t question Todd’s odd tone further. So they both proceed in the dining hall.

The dining hall was swarming with mostly first years and juniors. There were no faces of Charlie, Meeks, Knox, or Pitts in the hall. They might not be keen about getting to class on time, but Todd retained his educational desires that he brought with him to Welton.

“Todd! Neil!” called a familiar voice across the crowd. “Over here!”

Knox and Meeks were standing the opposite wall behind the staff table. They motioned Neil and Todd to join them on the other room. Todd didn’t notice there was a door on that corner the first time he dined in the place. Todd's aligning curiosity and grumbling stomach didn't question this further and advanced through the crowd.

As he stepped in, the room was warm with homely aroma and clanging pans. On the far right corner near a huge stove, escaped a choking, billowing smoke. It’s the kitchen room, obviously. Much smaller in space, but enough to fit in food supplies and chefs. On the left side near the door was a square table and a bench, where Pitts sat, waiting.

They gathered tightly around the table. Knox returned with a huge bowl of crackers and two jars containing strawberry jam and cream. “Suit yourself, children.”

The boys ate greedily like it was their last meal. They didn't have enough time for small talks with their mouths full, except the two scientists discussing their inventions when the door suddenly barged open, scaring poor Pitts and knocking the bowl in process.

“Guys?” called Charlie with urgency. “Where’s Cameron?”


	3. Dead Poets Society

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is unfinished. Additions, errors and changes are momentarily updated.

Charlie ran outside the dining hall, followed by the rest of the boys. They checked every halls and classrooms where Cameron must've been hiding or passed out (hopefully not), but the gingerhead boy was nowhere to be seen.

Neil inclined to his knees, panting. “Are you sure he didn’t arrive last night?”

“Yes,” Charlie shot back. “I was supposed to confront him after English class, but the git left too quickly.”

Charlie paced back and forth, feeling his heart palpitating to his veins.

No one spoke for five minutes as the boys sat down on the cold, hard floor of the east wing corridor. Todd thought about his Chemistry class. If he leaves now, he’s going to arrive late on class or never. But Cameron’s absence is a serious matter. It would be rude for Todd to excuse himself in this situation. He released the thought, diverting to Cameron’s possible whereabouts. 

“Charlie?” called Todd. “Cameron was in Latin yesterday.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Charlie retaliated.

“Afternoon schedule?”

“What do you mean afternoon schedule? We both share the same schedule in the morning!”

“Hey, hey,” Neil intervened. “There’s no need to raise our voices, alright? I saw him too in Latin. Afternoon schedule.”

His eyes widened in disbelief.

After three hours of touring the whole school, the boys decided they should attend their classes; even if it means being late. They passed through classroom windows, where bored and droopy students are set forth. They progressed their way past classrooms and laboratories, when Meeks lagged behind, squinting through the glass window. “Guys?”

“What is it, Meeks?” Pitts asked, eyebrows furrowed in curiosity.

Meeks motioned the boys to come see it for themselves. Inside the classroom was Professor Javier, snoring in front of the class as his students sat in silence, focus drawn on their test papers.

“What are we meant to see here?” Charlie asked, exasperated.

Meeks diverted his eyes on Charlie, feeling vexed.

“Last column, third row,” said Todd, tapping on the glass. “See?”

A familiar ginger boy sat; his forehead rested on his palms, expression boring with intensive concentration.

Charlie furrowed his eyebrows, enraged. “What the hell is he doing in History class?”

“Are you sure you have the same schedule as him, Charlie?” Neil asked, feeling foolish.

“Yes, Neil! He showed me the list himself!”

“Maybe he got in the wrong class and decided to play it all along-“

“No, Pitts! He would’ve got called out for getting the wrong class during attendance.” Charlie retorted.

The boys waited half an hour for the bell to confront Cameron. Knox felt quite nervous of the situation, knowing that Charlie ain't someone to hold their horses. After what seemed like forever, there came a thrilling buzz as students shuffled outside wearing their strained faces. Charlie, still antagonized, shoved them aside until the pale faced Cameron appeared. Charlie grabbed him by the collar out of everyone’s path and pinned him on the brick wall.

“Charlie, what the hell-“

“Let him be, Knox,” Neil snapped, blocking Knox from pulling Charlie.

There was a sudden heat filling up Charlie's head.

“Who do you think you are?” spat Charlie. Cameron winced and held his hands up to surrender.

The boys were quite pulling off an inapt dog show. Knox and Neil mustered between the two lads and the audience, in case someone will get hurt.

“We’ve missed two subjects,” breathed Charlie. “Looking for your miserable ass.”

Charlie inched closer to his face, heat rising up on Cameron’s cheeks. He scraped his knuckles up to his chin, still clutched on his collar. Charlie has been worried sick of his roommate. He wanted to punch him right now. To punch the ginger boy’s lying face. 

“Charlie,” Knox called, fighting to keep his tone calm. “Say we talk about this properly, alright?”

Charlie pierced his eyes on to Cameron’s gray ones. No, he deserve at least a blow. To release the boiling rage inside him. He held his gaze as if reading his mind. What secrets recline in that skull separating his ignorance. Instead, Charlie dropped him to the ground. Both men panting.

“Cameron, care to explain?” Neil asked as he crouched beside him.

The pale faced Cameron shifted uncomfortably, avoiding everyone’s gazes.

Neil threw a scowl over the swarming audience, more like a signal to get going rather than annoyance.

“Are you going to tell us or not?!”

“Alright, alright,” Cameron retaliated, coerced by Charlie’s pitch. “I dropped Trigonometry. Took History class.”

The boys gaped at him in confusion, eager to hear more.

“And I’m still taking Latin. But I requested to move it on afternoon schedule.”

“But I thought that’s against policy,” Pitts presumed.

“Not if Mr. Nolan agreed to it,” Cameron returned.

“Nolan agreed to that?” Charlie gushed unbelievably to the statement. The rest of the boys condemned. “Where were you last night then?”

Cameron narrowed his eyes in deep thought. “Last night, was- I uhm-,” he stammered. “I- got picked up. By my dad. He said we should celebrate his promotion—of his job—he got promoted.”

"Congratulations," Todd uttered, earning a distasteful look from Meeks.

Charlie engraved his eyes on the ginger boy, as if he's seen the most disgusting creature walk on earth. The rest of the boys contemplated the matter for a moment until the bell rang for the third time that morning. Set of footsteps tramped along the halls of Welton Academy, proceeding to the dining hall. “Anything else?” asked Cameron.

Neil stared blankly on the floor, frozen on his spot. “You can go now.”

“Yeah. Fuck off,” Charlie concluded. 

Cameron glared at him with abhorrence and strode away from the scene. The rest of the boys straightened up and advanced sideways to allow path for the starving students.

There was something off Cameron’s expression as Todd suspected. He seemed quite disturbed. Maybe because of the confound Charlie caused him when he was shoved on the wall. Or maybe not just that. Todd felt unsettled himself. For him, intuitions are something to pay attention with. But sometimes, intuitions could be wrong.

“You guys going to lunch?” asked Meeks.

“No.” replied Neil. He turned to face Todd, who seemed to concur Neil’s decision.

"No." Knox added.

Meeks glanced over Charlie, who obviously doesn't have the appetite for lunch. “Pitts?”

Pitts raised his eyebrows, checking on everyone. “I suppose that was an appetite killer for all of us.”

“Hey guys!” Neil called. His face lighting up. “I saw Mr. Keating's old annual with Todd yesterday, and I meant to ask him about the ‘Dead Poets Society’”

“ _Dead Poets Society?_ " chorused the boys.

Neil handed them the yearbook and flipped through the thick pages of monochrome photos. They giggled at the old students' horrible faces and crooked smiles, while questioning each other about the ‘thigh man’ and how Mr. Keating was a hell-raiser. 

"Good for him!" Charlie laughed.

"What is the 'Dead Poets Society'?" Knox asked, carefully leafing though the book with his left hand.

"Any group pictures in the annual?" Meeks asked.

"Not of that," replied Neil, as he studied the captions. "No other mention of it."

"Hold up," said Charlie, snatching the annual from Knox. "Is that Dr. Hager?"

Todd thought about last night as he watched the boys laughing, busying themselves with the yearbook. _Our friends, Todd_ , echoed Neil’s voice in his head. He doesn’t know why they hated Cameron since the first day. But other than hating him, they actually cared about him. Whereas Todd, a newly transferred student from Balincrest, might eventually stand a chance of being genuinely accepted to the group. Why not?

“Speaking of _thigh man_ ,” said Knox, peering over the window. “He’s outside right now.”

“Well, then, come on!” Neil jumped to his feet in excitement.

They all proceed outside the mossy stoned building, towards the grassy field where random students spent their vacant time. The sun shone brightly all over the blanket of clear blue sky. Strong breeze brushing off the maple trees, sending its dried leaves on air. Mr. Keating, wearing his sport coat and a scarf, strolled on the scene with tranquillity.

“Mr. Keating?” Neil called after him. But the English teacher didn’t seem to notice. “Mr. Keating? O’ Captain, My Captain?”

At the mention of the last reference, Mr. Keating turned around, a smile drawn on his face. “Gentlemen.”

Neil and the squad gathered around, showing Mr. Keating the yearbook. “Sir, we were just looking in your old annual,” he pointed on the page. “What’s the ‘Dead Poets Society’?”

Mr. Keating’s eyes gradually lit up on the question. He took the yearbook from Neil’s hand with care, skimming through the aged photos. Mr. Keating hasn't respond as he chortled on his old memory. Neil, Todd, Charlie, Knox, Meeks, and Pitts observed the teacher’s expression with interest.

Todd smiled on the thought that Mr. Keating, who was once like them, might’ve had some great years during his stay in Welton as a student. Though he wasn’t the charismatic person that he is now, he wondered what he did to survive the school’s living hell, and how he succeed in life.

“I doubt the present administration will look too favourably on that,” began Mr. Keating. “Gentlemen, can you keep a secret?”

The boys nodded as they huddled up in curiosity. Mr. Keating looked around in case some strangers might overhear them. “The Dead Poets were dedicated to sucking the marrow out of life.

“That phrase is by Thoreau and was invoked a every meeting,” he explained. “A small group of us would meet at the old cave, and we would take turns reading Shelley, Thoreau, Whitman, our own verse – and the enchantment of the moment let it work its magic on us.” Mr. Keating’s eyes glowed, recalling the experience.

“You mean it was a bunch of guys sitting around reading poetry?” Knox asked, bewildered.

Mr. Keating smiled. “Both sexes participated, Mr. Overstreet. And believe me, we didn’t simply read… we let it drip from our tongues like honey. Women swooned, spirits soared… god were created, gentlemen.”

The boys stood silent for a moment. “What did the name mean?” Neil asked. “Did you only read dead poets?”

“All poetry was acceptable, Mr. Perry. The name simply referred to the fact that, to join the organization, you had to be dead.”

“ _What?_ ” The boys said in chorus.

“The living were simply pledges. Full membership required a lifetime of apprenticeship. Alas, even I’m still lowly initiate,” he explained.

The boys looked at one another in amazement.

“The last meeting must have been fifteen years ago,” Mr. Keating recalled. He looked around again to make sure no one was observing, then turned and strode away.

“I say we go tonight,” Neil said excitedly when Mr. Keating was out of sight. “Everybody in?”

“Where is this cave we’re talking about?” Pitts asked.

“Beyond the stream. I think I know where it is,” Neil answered.

“But that’s miles,” Pitts complained. “Plus, we should be doing study group tonight.”

“Yeah. We just missed two subjects this morning.” Knox agreed.

“Don’t come, then.” Charlie shot back.

They all stood decisively for a while before opening up a vote. “So,” Neil began. “Who’s in?”

“I’m in.” Charlie said first.

“Alright then,” Knox added.

Neil looked at Todd, Pitts, and Meeks. Pitts hesitated. “Well…”

“Oh, come on, Pitts,” Charlie said.

“His grades are hurting, Charlie,” Meeks said in Pitts' defense.

“Then you can help him, Meeks,” Charlie suggested.

“Forget it, Pitts,” Neil said. “You’re coming. Meeks, are your grades hurting too?”

Everyone laughed.

“All right,” Meeks said. “I’ll try anything _once_.”

“Except sex,” Charlie laughed. “Right, Meeks, old boy?”

Meeks blushed as the boys laughed and horsed around him.

“Todd?” Neil continued.

“I’ll think about it,” he replied. Todd thought about Knox’s statement. He’s right. They just missed two subjects this morning. This would affect his grades and his future. His parents couldn’t afford picking him up from the Welton’s garbage dump after he got flunk out.

“Come on,” Neil encouraged. “Don’t forget to live sometimes.”

After dinner, Todd sat beside his study desk full of cluttered mess and stacked books. His eyes are droopy but fought its way for his Chemistry homework. He's been reading the same paragraph over and over for almost 20 minutes now. He couldn't take the thought off Neil's plan for tonight; the Indian cave and whatnot. It's distracting. After what felt like an hour and still on the same page as before, he slammed his book shut out of exasperation. "Tomorrow. I promise."

Todd crashed on his bed without a care in the world. He hasn't done much that day but felt like he just labored for hours of heavy workload. His mind swirled on random thoughts; Cameron's disappearance; the fight; the annual; the revelation about Dead Poets Society; _Neil Perry._ Oh, Neil Perry. If he wasn't such an visionary, they could've done study group by now. They could've covered up everything they missed, or prepared for tomorrow's upcoming lessons. What's the point, really? Are bunch of guys reading poetry really gonna benefit him? If so, on what cause? He admits himself a fan of literature, especially poems. He had read a lot of them before, but he's not very good at writing one. It troubles him how ideas just deliberately flows in his mind on unexpected times. And when he's faced by a pen and a paper, as if struck by catatonia, seemed to forget where and how to begin.

“Hey, Todd,” whispered Neil. The lad seemed unaware of his presence. "Todd."

"Huh?" Todd squinted, feeling a spatter on his face issuing from Neil's damp hair.

Neil chuckled. "We're going in less than an hour. Grab your coat."

"Huh?"

Neil noticed his tired roommate's mental absence. He shook his head and felt hesitant on waking him up. "Come on, Todd."

"What's going on?" Charlie entered. He strode gracefully in his full Charlie Chaplin outfit.

Neil raised his eyebrows and eyed him head to toe, perplexed. "Charlie-"

"I thought we're reading poetry, not trick or treating."

Charlie stuck a tongue out on Meeks.

"Todd's asleep."

"Oh, is he?," Charlie voiced out in a menacing tone. "Let me see."

Charlie, being the comedian he is, tiptoed towards Todd and positioned himself mid-air.

"No, Charlie, cut it out!" suppressed Neil.

"Cut _what out,_ Neil? I don't know what you're talking about."

And before they knew it, Todd's hysterical laughter filled the room as Charlie worked on his tummy and undersides.

"N-no, stop it-t aaaah!"

"Charlie," Neil warned. "Lay off him, will you?"

"Look, Pitts! Todd's ticklish like a little baby!" Meeks laughed.

Todd writhed hopelessly and fell on the floor, but he couldn't escape Charlie's tight grip. He shrieked so girlishly, tears spurting from his eyes like geysers. He bucked against the wall and yelled things like 'stop' and 'please' and 'you're killing me'.

"Interesting." Pitts remarked with a grin.

**Author's Note:**

> I am putting this on hold under 24 hours. I have to read a book to gain at least an inspiration. I've been stressing out recently, working my vocabulary and how to deliver my story more efficiently. I hope people reading this enjoyed my work. The whole plot is already built in my head. There will be more drama and mystery we will uncover in the future. So, tune in!


End file.
